90s Pop Song
by katertotz
Summary: I suck at summaries, but basically Derek sleeps over because Stiles inadvertently makes him feel like a 90s pop song.


**90s Pop Song**

Derek slept over one time. One time.

He never really thought sleeping over was his thing. Especially with Stiles. Especially with Stiles' father a few doors down. Especially with Mr. Stilinski's new found knowledge of arrows and mountain ash. He knew he should have interfered when he saw Mr. Argent and Mr. Stilinski knock back one too many beers at the pub last summer.

Still, Mr. Stilinski had no clue that Derek was dating his quirky son. (Dating sounded very PG, but the things Derek was doing with Mr. Stilinski's song were nowhere near PG—hence him not knowing yet.)

Derek had no idea he had been falling so hard for Stiles until it was two months into their relationship (at that point they weren't labeling it; correction: Derek wasn't labeling it and Stiles was to ecstatic to be dating him, finally, to care) when Derek thought it was a cool idea to get Stiles drunk on his 18th birthday. Normally, Derek would frown at minors drinking, but he heard from Scott that Stiles' was pretty hilarious while intoxicated. So what, he wanted to see his boy-friend drunk as a skunk.

To keep it safe, Derek had everyone meet them at Stiles' place (his dad was at work all night). Lydia made a World of Warcraft themed birthday cake for Stiles and Boyd grilled the most amazing steaks Derek had ever had.

Things had gotten a bit crazier than Derek had planned for and next thing that happened was Stiles getting too handsy with Lydia while playing Twister.

Jealousy was another thing Derek never pinned himself for feeling, but boy had he been jealous. He wanted to slap the smirk off Erica's face for announcing she just so happened to have the Twister game in her car. She did that on purpose! She intentionally brought that stupid game with her! Ruiner! 'Let's play Twister, guys! Girls against boys. Lydia and the birthday boy, you two are first up!'

He was going to have to call a pack meeting soon and educated them all on what was cool and was not cool to do around his boy-friend.

(Still not labeling it!)

When Lydia began chanting "strip twister" Derek decided that was enough alcohol for the night and made everyone leave.

After making sure everyone piled up into Allison's car (thank god she decided to be the sober one) Derek walked back into the house and smirked while watching Stiles eat his cake—or what was left of its chocolaty goodness. He was sitting on the Twister mat, without a shirt on (he had yelled earlier in the night that his shirt was holding him down and he was a man that couldn't be held down) eating his cake with his hands.

"Have you enjoyed your birthday?" Derek asked as he leaned up against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes." Stiles nodded and stood up, dusting the cake crumbs off his chest. His feet carried him over to Derek. "Thanks, boyfriend." He smiled that stupid smile of his that made Derek feel like a 90s pop song.

"I thought we weren't labeling this." Derek's hands instinctively went around Stiles' waist, pulling him closer against him.

"You're not labeling this. In my head we are very much labeling this." Stiles smiled. "We're labeling it on the table, in the bathroom, in the boys locker room, on my bed, on the neighbor's trampoline—"

"A trampoline? Really?" Derek furrowed his eyebrows and tried to picture them doing it on a trampoline and all he could think of was awkward pain.

"Yes, a trampoline!" Stiles pouted.

Derek laughed and kissed his nose then dropped his lips to capture Stiles' soft ones. "Alright, maybe some other time when you're sober we can try that."

"I'm completely sober. Want me to sing the alphabet backwards? I can square dance to George Straight. Want me to do a vagina monologue?" Stiles pulled back and looked up into Derek's eyes.

Derek's nose scrunched up and shook his head. "Please, dear god, don't." He unraveled his arms and grabbed Stiles' hands, walking them down the hall to his bedroom.

"You need to get some rest for you will feel like crap in the morning. I am going to clean up." Derek helped Stiles get out of his jeans—restraining himself to the point of raw pain not to jump his bones in the process—and tuck him into his bed.

"Promise you'll come back after you clean up before you leave?" Stiles asked—begged—when Derek reached his doorway.

"Yeah, I will." Derek laughed, shaking his head then walking out to the living room and kitchen to clean up the food, beer bottles, and everything else.

It took him around half an hour to make everything look normal again in the Stilinski household. He made his way down the hall for the second time and smiled wide as he round the corner. "Everything looks brand new again—" He stopped himself when he saw Stiles fast asleep. He was laying on his stomach, one arm dangling over the edge of his bed, and the other tucked under his body. His mouth was open slightly (did he ever shut it?) and Derek could hear his soft, even breathing.

Derek wandered over to him quietly and ran the back of his hand over Stiles' cheek. He looked over at the other half of his boy-friend's (still not labeling it…okay, alright, maybe he was rethinking it) bed. It was empty. Derek's eyes traveled over to Stiles' face again and sighed. "Damn you, Stiles. Even when you're unconscious you drive me nuts." He whispered then withdrew his shirt and jeans.

"But I swear to God this will not happen again." Derek added while climbing into the bed behind Stiles. "And if you ever tell Peter this..." His hand went to wrap around Stiles' waist, but he hesitated, not sure how to do this part. He knew how to hold girls in bed… were boys the same way? Did it matter? It probably didn't matter. He rolled his eyes and plopped himself back on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

There was a soft murmur beside him that caught his attention. He lay still, but it was no use because within five seconds Stiles had rolled over, laid his head on Derek's chest and curled his arm under his chin. Derek sighed, his body relaxing, and brought his left arm up around Stiles' back, holding him close.

Placing a soft kiss on Stiles' head, he closed his eyes. "Happy birthday, boyfriend."

(Okay, so he decided to label it because let's face it… labeling is fun and possessive… Derek like that feeling… calling Stiles 'his' boyfriend… suck it Lydia! You had your chance woman!)

Now it was a year into their relationship, Stiles was attending a community college—still living at home—and Derek had yet to miss one night sleeping over. He slept over that one time and it was enough to get him addicted to waking up to goofy, quirky, ridiculously hot Stiles.


End file.
